Wasn't Me
by PenPistola
Summary: Arthur keeps coming on to Eames in public places. When they inevitably get caught, Arthur just casually blames it on Eames. Eames plots his revenge.


**From the Inception Kink Meme:**

**Prompt:** Established relationship-ish. Arthur continuously makes sexual advances on Eames in public or semi-public situations, but every time they're caught in a compromising position (and they are always caught ok), he casually makes it look like it's Eames' fault, and of course, everyone takes his word. And they're all like Oh, Eames, not again and Eames is like, wtf, no it was Arthur, and Arthur is just like, innocently adjusting his cufflinks or something.

**A/N:** Eheheh, yeah. This kind of sucks. Oh well. Eames/Arthur, 1445 words, rated PG13 for... Prenatal Graham Crackers. Thirteen. Whatevs. I'm not making any money from this, so please don't sue.

The first time it happened, Eames was willing to let it slide. He knew how Arthur was, a slave to appearances when anyone was looking—the three piece suits would attest to that. But really, Arthur should have known that dragging Eames over to the wall and ratcheting his leg between the forgers' was a bad idea. He should have remembered that Yusuf and Ariadne were due back any minute with lunch. He should have counted on their being caught, because really, the odds were against them. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Eames heard the splat of a yogurt carton on the ground behind him and grimaced into where he was mouthing a hickey on Arthur's neck. Too late.

"Eames, oh my god!" Ariadne squeaked. She set about righting her carton and scooping the ruined stuff back in.

Eames opened his mouth to argue, pointed to Arthur, stopped. Arthur had backed off a few feet and was staring at him now, wide-eyed and brow furrowed. It was the most perfect 'scandalized' Eames thought he'd ever seen.

"I–" he spluttered, "Wha–" But Arthur only straightened his tie, glare gone absolutely murderous.

"Not very gentlemanly of you, Eames," Yusuf frowned, looking vaguely unimpressed. "Forcing yourself on your coworkers is pretty uncool."

"But..." The _unfairness_ of it rankled him. Yusuf, who was supposed to be his bestest friend in the whole wide world, took Arthur's word over his? He had to bite his tongue to keep from squawking out a betrayed "Inconceivable!"

But Arthur chose that moment to stalk off, and Eames caught the twinkle in his eye as he sat down at his desk. Oh.

'_What an absolute bastard_.' The worst part was that Eames couldn't be mad.

The fourth time was a little less excusable. The setting might have had something to do with it—thirty of Arthur's relatives packed into one lake house for a family reunion didn't strike him as the best place to sneak off and make out. But halfway through dessert, Arthur had yanked at his tie, excused himself and given Eames this _look_. Arthur was harder to read than most people, but Eames thought he'd translated it pretty accurately as '_If you don't follow me now, I will murder you in your sleep._' So he followed.

"Jesus, Arthur," he grunted as he hit the back wall of the small coat closet. Arthur wormed his way through the piles of fur coats (how much money did a family of investment bankers make, anyway?) and silenced the thought with a hand shoved down Eames' pants. "Ngh," Eames groaned, leaning into the touch. His mouth found Arthur's in the dark, and although he was _trying_ to keep the noise level down, there really was no such thing as quiet face-sucking. He forced down the nervous little voice in his head, because hot _damn_ this was nice. Maybe he ought to have listened.

Somehow Eames had ended up with his back to the door, so he missed the widening sliver of light as it opened. The first indication he got that they weren't so alone anymore was a startled "My word!" Eames broke away from Arthur with a 'shlup' of suction and did his best deer-in-headlights impression at the silhouette of Arthur's Great Aunt Millie.

"I–" he started.

"Arthur, my darling, what's he done to you?" Millie screeched.

Arthur casually removed his hand from Eames' pants and gave a sad shrug. "I tried to tell him 'no.'"

Eames blinked and gesticulated frantically at Arthur's left arm. "But Arthur—he—hand—my pants!"

"Nothing more from you, you cad!" Millie sent him an impressive glare and motioned for Arthur to come out of the coats and join her. "Poor dear," she said as she began straightening Arthur's jacket. "Coat closet, really? Didn't I warn you about dating low-class men after that time with the stripper?"

"What," said Eames.

"You did warn me," Arthur nodded, helping her to readjust his cufflinks. "Guess I wan't paying attention."

"I'll have you know that I'm not—" Eames cut in, but he was thoroughly ignored by both parties. Millie led Arthur back in the direction of the dining room without so much as sparing Eames another glance. Eames let his hand drop back to his side, but when Arthur shot him an amused glace just before they turned the corner, he felt his anger dissolving away. '_Goddammit._'

By the seventh time, it was getting a little ridiculous.

"It isn't what it looks like!" Eames stammered, withering under Cobb's unholy glare.

"Really?" Cobb said and tapped his foot in irritation. "Because it looks like you and Arthur with your hands up each other's shirts and your ties undone. _At my daughter's birthday party._"

"Well, I guess it is that..." Eames admitted, "...but Arthur started it!"

Cobb glanced doubtfully at Arthur, who raised his brows and held his hands out in a show of innocence. The extractor turned his glare back to Eames.

"No," Eames argued, shaking his head. "Oh no, not this again. Arthur, _tell him you started it._"

"Eames!" Arthur gasped as he re-knotted his tie. "Don't _lie!_"

"Whubba?"

"Alright, enough." Cobb strode over to them and picked the fancifully decorated sheet cake off the counter. "I'm disappointed in both of you, but especially you, Eames. Shame on you, you ought to know better. I swear, I send you in here to get a goddamned birthday cake, and..." The rest of his grumbling was unintelligible as he stalked back out the door and into the mass of screaming children in the back yard.

Arthur started to follow him, but Eames reached out and snagged the back of his suit jacket. "No you don't." He spun Arthur around to face him, bracing both hands on the smaller man's shoulders. "Explain."

Arthur said nothing, just grinned at him, and Eames had an image run unbidden through his head—Bugs Bunny looking at the camera with a smug smirk and saying "Ain't I a stinker?"

Eames counted to ten, letting his hands slide down Arthur's front. "I love you," he said. "But I also hate you a little bit. I just want you to know that."

Arthur's grin turned lascivious and he leaned in to plant an absolutely filthy kiss on Eames' lips. "I love you too."

The eighth time, Eames was ready for him.

There was no real planning these sort of things; they just happened. But Eames, well, he had a hunch. It was Ariadne and Yusuf's turn to go get lunch today, but Eames had pulled them aside before they'd left. "Stick around outside for a minute," he'd said. "Just keep quiet and you might see something."

"What?" Ariadne had questioned him, brow furrowed, but Eames merely put a finger to his lips and smiled.

It paid off. Ariadne and Yusuf had been 'gone' for maybe five minutes, but Eames caught a glimpse of a shadow through the dusty warehouse windowpane. Maybe it made Eames an exhibitionist, but really, who was he to mind? All that was left was to wait—and it wasn't a long one. One minute, Arthur and Eames were sitting quietly at their desks and hashing out plans for the upcoming extraction job, and the next Arthur was straddling Eames in his rolling chair with his tongue down the forger's throat. Eames heard a faint gasp from outside and chuckled into the kiss, victorious.

"What was that?" asked Arthur. Eames returned Arthur's grin from last time, with change. "Oh. Oh, you _bastard_."

When he turned around, Yusuf and Ariadne were standing in the doorway and staring. The point man slid off the chair and strolled over-casually to his own workstation, ears gone slightly pink.

"Do you see?" Eames shouted. He chased after Arthur and pointed repeatedly at the other man, who was currently trying to sink into his desk. "Did you see that? He did it, and I told you, I _told_ you! You saw him molest me this time!"

"Alright, alright, you caught me," Arthur groaned. "Revenge? Dish best served cold? You can stop gloating now."

"Dish," said Ariadne thoughtfully.

"Yeah," agreed Yusuf. "We wasted half our lunch break waiting around to see _this_?"

"What?" said Eames. But they were already walking back out. "I... er... wait..."

"Victory is meaningless," Arthur smirked.

Eames had no better choice than to roll his eyes and sit down on Arthur's desk. "Com'ere," he said, and he pulled Arthur in by his tie for another kiss.

Yusuf burst in around the corner at that very moment, waving his hands like guns at Eames. "Pahaha, got you!" he cried gleefully, then ran back out.

Eames sighed his very best put-upon sigh. "I give up."

The only reaction Cobb got out of him when the extractor caught them at it a few minutes later was a finger flipped casually in his direction.


End file.
